


Best Friends and KitKats

by Alicethrutheburrows



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Best Friends, Blow Jobs, Candy, Creature Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean gets scared in the woods, Dean is that person that wanders into a forest in the middle of the night, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fate & Destiny, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Forest Frottage, Friends to Lovers, Halloween, Hand Jobs, Human Dean Winchester, M/M, No Angst, Not An Omegaverse, Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester, POV Dean Winchester, Porn With Plot, Stubborn Dean Winchester, Werewolf Castiel (Supernatural), cas has secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23321527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alicethrutheburrows/pseuds/Alicethrutheburrows
Summary: Halloween. Dean's favorite holiday, not only because he gets to eat his share of KitKats without judgment but because Dean spends it with his best friend, Cas, every year. Traditionally, Dean dresses as Batman and Cas as Superman every year without fail since they were six except this year. This year they're both finally 21 and supposed to be heading to Charlie's Halloween bash but when Cas calls and cancels Dean is left pondering why. Thinking something fishy is happening, Dean heads out into the night in search of his best friend and finds more than he is bargaining for. Will Dean make it out of the woods or will this Halloween be one he'll never forget?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 54
Kudos: 212
Collections: Takeout Tacos





	Best Friends and KitKats

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet was written for cocklesdestielfanfic 1k followers celebration. Prompt: Candy. This piece was also alpha read and beta'd by my word guardian angel: Emblue_Sparks. Check them out on tumblr: @emblue-sparks
> 
> Without further ado, welcome down my rabbit hole! Here you'll find mysterious creatures, love confessions, and an interesting writing style. I hope you enjoy. Love, Alice

###### 

Dean loves two things—his best friend Cas and candy. In that order. Dean rubs his hands together glancing between the two costumes sprawled out on his bed. Tonight’s Halloween and Dean’s giddy about his and his best friend’s long-standing Halloween tradition. 

Halloween holds an extra special place in his heart, not because he loves cheesy 80’s slasher films and monsters of every kind, but because Cas became his best friend on a Halloween night when they were six. He recalls the memory with a smile while digging through the already open bag of mixed bite-sized candy on his bed. 

Dean was rocking his Batman costume—awesome fake muscles, bat mask, and Batman light-up sneakers—when at the third house he trick-or-treated he met Cas sporting a decked-out Superman costume with matching fake muscles. They reached for the doorbell at the same time while the attending parents chatted at the bottom of the stoop. Dean doesn’t remember the lady who gave them a handful of candy, but he does remember Cas pointing out his light-up sneakers saying they were cool, and Dean liked Cas’ Superman costume. They ended up trick-or-treating together the rest of the night talking superheroes and trading candy bars since Cas was fond of Paydays and Dean liked Kit-Kat’s the most. Cas was in a separate class so Dean had seen him around but didn’t know him, but that night he couldn’t get enough of the Krypton-clad boy with too big and blue to be true pouting anytime the cheap grandma candy made its way into his candy pail. At the end of the night, Dean had declared them best friends and the rest is history. After 15 years as best friends, Dean still traded Cas Payday’s for Kit-Kat’s. 

Every year since the first Halloween Dean insisted, they trick-or-treat together, always as Batman and Superman. As they grew older, trick-or-treating became Halloween school dances which became Halloween parties as they entered their high school and college years. But the costumes remained the same, Dean as Batman and Cas as Superman. 

So, what if Dean took secret delight in dressing Cas in the skankiest most creative Superman costumes he could come up with…sue him. Last year Dean did a Clark Kent changing into Superman costume painting a red S symbol on his best friend's bare chest under a white button-up and half undone blue tie and tight red shorts to top it off. Dean shivers remembering it. He grew tall, even an inch or two taller than Cas. Whereas Cas grew thick with defined biceps, a toned stomach, and those runner’s _thighs_. 

This year’s costume is a little different. Dean had been rolling the idea in his head for weeks before deciding, fuck it they were doing it. This year—Supergirl and Batgirl. He reaches out and fixes the pleats on Cas’ red skirt, then fixes his matching black skirt. 

Dean’s more than giddy now than ever to dress Cas up this year for Charlie’s annual Halloween bash. They met the redhead their freshman year of college and she quickly adopted them into her family of friends. Half the university shows up for Charlie’s bash and this year she rented out the local event center to hold it. Seriously, the bash is a sight to see because as usual, Charlie goes above and beyond. Since she’s in the theater club, she borrows all sorts of props for her bash, monster costumes are the pinnacle of the party and there’s enough candy, punch, beer, and alcohol for a small city festival. 

Dean double checks his bed, making sure all their costume pieces are set out and pops a bite-sized Kit-Kat into his mouth. _Shit what time is it?_ , passes through Dean’s mind as he chews. He pulls his iPhone from his back pocket and taps the screen to check the time—9 P.M. Okay, they still had time, he’ll just shoot his best friend a quick text to see where he was and get an ETA, no worries. 

Dean digs around his candy bag until he finds another Kit-Kat and this time bites the crunchy wafer candy in half. He wanders from his bedroom to his living room, munching his chocolate. His apartment is only a couple of blocks from campus and a short drive to the party venue. 

When Dean was looking for apartments, he half-hoped Cas would want to be his roommate. It seemed logical they were best friends, they were going to the same university, and they both wanted more independence. Well, Cas’ family had strong opinions about that idea. 

His best friend had been adopted when he was a toddler by the Miltons. Dean’s asked a few times over the years but has never really been given a straight answer on what exactly happened to Cas’ parents. Cas only knows what he’s been told which isn’t much, supposedly it was a robbery gone wrong which ended up with both his parents dead. Cas always seemed nonchalant about the whole my parents were killed thing saying he was more than blessed with his adoptive parents. 

Then his best friend turned sixteen and some long-forgotten relatives crawled out of the woodwork all of sudden wanting to be a part of Cas’s life. Over the next few months, Cas grew distant as his relatives moved into the old (very creepy, probably haunted in Dean’s opinion) mansion on the outskirts of town under the guise of wanting to be closer to Cas. 

The distance stung and Dean tried to be as understanding as he was patient. On top of the nasty distance, Cas turned into a grumpy asshole, his attitude a direct contributor to their first fight and thankfully only fight. After six weeks of curt answers and blatant avoidance, Dean cornered and pressed Cas about _what the hell his problem was_ which led to both their tempers flaring, some heated words and Dean best friendless for two weeks. 

Luckily, they both felt pretty bad over the argument, their anger crumbling after only fourteen days of not talking to one another. Cas apologized first and Dean followed suit, the whole fight was water under the bridge just in time for their Halloween tradition that year. 

Dean frowns, remembering those two weeks being some of the worst of his life. He tosses in the other half of his Kit-Kat that was melting between his fingers into his mouth trying to reign in his original train of thought. His apartment! Right! Dean snagged a great apartment with two bedrooms hoping Cas would move into the second bedroom but his hope went up in smoke when Cas announced he was moving into Creepy McCreeper mansion.

So, Dean being the totally mature adult he is coped with the news in the best he knew how—fucking his sorrows away by christening every surface of his new apartment with a different broad for a week. Joke’s on Dean though, while Cas has his belongings at There’s Probably Dead People Here mansion he actually lives at Dean’s except a few nights during the month. Other than those days Cas keeps his clothes in the spare bedroom closet, his school stuff strewn out on the coffee table in the living room, and his toothbrush and fancy chick shampoo in Dean’s bathroom.

The situation is a win-win in Dean’s book. He gets his best friend as his quote on quote roommate and a couple of nights a month he gets the whole apartment to himself to have either Dean time with Mr. Lefty or with whatever lady he’s had the pleasure of charming into coming home with that evening. Or on rare occasions, a handsome fellow whose eyes are almost the right shade and hair almost the right mix of brown to black, Dean prides himself on being an equal opportunity kind of guy.

Speaking of Cas, Dean realizes the fucker hasn’t texted him back. His phone screen lights up when he taps the screen, 10 P.M, shit. Dean’s been lollygagging down memory lane for an hour now. Opening his phone, he double-checks his message making sure he didn’t accidentally miss Cas’s reply while his head was off in la-la land. 

Nothing. 

It’s a little unsettling. Dean hasn’t seen his best friend since Thursday, but he wrote it off since Saturday was Halloween and there was absolutely no doubt in his mind, he’d be seeing Cas. Now time is slipping, Dean’s phone reads 10:30 with no messages or calls. 

A growing pit in Dean’s stomach starts to settle in. Maybe his phone died, Dean’s overly optimistic brain supplies. The only way to find out, his more reasonable side argues. 

Clicking on Cas’ contact, the phone seems to dial and rings three times like normal before connecting to Cas’ voicemail— _This is Cas. Make your voice a mail_. Dean rolls his eyes at his best friend’s stupid voicemail greeting, hanging up before leaving a message. He dials the number again…voicemail. 

After repeating this process upwards of ten times, the dial tone finally clicks over to Cas’ gravelly voice. 

“Hello Dean,” Cas answers with an underlying agitation in his words, “Is there a reason you’re blowing up my phone?”

“First off, rude.” Dean replies instantly, “Second, did you forget it’s Halloween tonight man? Charlie’s been talking your ear off about this bash for weeks now.”

“I—Dean—I,” Dean can tell Cas is struggling on the other side of the line. Dean hears Cas curse under his breath and the line goes silent for a beat. Cas audibly sighs and Dean can hear him furrowing his brows and scrunching his nose, “Dean I can’t go tonight.”

“What do you mean you can’t go tonight?” Dean asks, breathless. No, no, no Cas never cancels on Halloween. “Dude it’s _Halloween_. It’s like our night, I have the costumes ready and I even picked up a few full-sized Payday’s for you and you're canceling on me last?”

“I’m sorry Dean. I am. Its family stuff,” Is all Cas offers as an explanation. 

“You’re breaking up the Justice League,” Dean does not whine. 

“The Justice League is more than just Superman and Batman, Dean.” 

“Dude, you can’t be—”

“Dean,” Cas cuts him off, “I’m sorry, I have a family affair tonight. I’ll call tomorrow.” And with that, the line goes dead. The little shit straight up had the audacity to hang up on him! 

Dean stares at his phone in disbelief. Cas bailing on their Halloween tradition for the family smells like a bad Sunday pot roast on Tuesday morning. Replaying their conversation in his head, Dean surmises Cas must have had his relatives in earshot. They must be holding Cas captive or more realistically they guilt-tripped him into staying home tonight. It’s a flimsy explanation but it’s the only lead Dean’s willing to believe as to why his best friend was acting like he could care less about their tradition. 

Ideas bounce around his head like kids in a bouncy house—chaotic and increasingly more dangerous. The one idea that jumps the highest and loudest is probably the stupidest plan Dean could try and accomplish but it seems to be the one that sticks. 

A while back Cas installed the Find My Friends app on Dean’s phone after a particularly wild night where Dean ended up white-girl wasted and on a bus to Kansas City. _This is for your own good Dean because I swear if I have to drive an hour to pick you up again at three in the morning, I’ll dump your ass in a ditch_ , Dean recounts Cas saying after he snatched Dean’s phone and installed the app. The app went both ways though, meaning Dean could pull it up and locate his asshole of a best friend. 

The little dot blinks Cas’s location to be the woods a few miles behind the Dracula Would Totally Live Here mansion. Dean stares at the blinking dot for a half-second before he’s moving to his bedroom. He throws on a pair of jeans and some plaid on top of a black t-shirt with a Batman logo in the center (not the Halloween costume he wanted to wear but it’d have to do). Something is hanky-panky and Dean’s determined to find out what. 

* * *

Cell phone service quit a mile ago. So, Dean’s left with guessing the rough whereabouts of Cas’ blinking dot. Pulling his Baby—a ’67 sleek black beauty of a Chevy Impala—into a patch of grass right outside the tree line, Dean wonders why the hell Cas’ family has him out running around the forest on Halloween night. Grumbling, he climbs out of Baby and is surprised to find the night fairly well lit by the full moon. 

In the distance, his ears pick up on some drumming? Yeah, it’s the unmistakable sound of beating drums. Huh, if Cas’ family was having a Halloween bonfire they could have invited Dean, he would have changed his plans and shelved the costumes for a different year. _Dicks_ , is all he can think. He’s definitely ruining their shindig now and rescuing his best friend from a night of boredom. 

Dean’s seen enough horror movies to know not to be that guy that wanders into an unknown forest on a full moon, but his feet betray him and carry him forward. Using the flashlight on his phone, Dean zig-zags around trees and fallen branches the best he can as he maneuvers deeper into the woods. 

He’s eerily calm for someone possibly walking into a serial killer’s wet dream. Dean can’t describe it, but _something_ is leading him. A tingling feeling directing his movements, perhaps some type of intuition? Whatever, Dean lets the feeling lead the way, hoping it will take him to the bonfire. 

He’s been stumbling around the throng of trees for the better part of thirty minutes now. Frustration is starting to seep in when Dean hears it. A snap of a twig or branch. Fuck. His breath hitches as he throws himself behind the nearest tree fumbling with his phone to turn off his flashlight. 

Covering his mouth with his hands, Dean tries to slow his ragged breaths. All that horror movie knowledge he’s collected over the years wasted; he’s about to be chopped up into itty bitty pieces or eaten by some ferocious forest creature. What the hell was he thinking wandering into the woods? Oh right, he’s an idiot too proud to admit he’s been in love with his best friend since forever and he’s too stubborn to have accepted no as an answer. So much has changed between them once Cas’ relatives showed up—more secrets, more so-called “family time”—Dean just wanted to hold onto their special something, sue him. Well, sue him if he survives this night. 

When the leaves right behind him crunch, Dean says his prayers. He screams when something brushes up beside him, scrambling away from whatever horror is about to happen to him.

Its…its…its…a bunny? 

Dean half laughs, half chokes on the breath he’s trying to take as the ball of fluff scampers off. Smooth Winchester, real fucking smooth nearly shitting your pants over a rabbit. 

Picking himself up off the ground and brushing the dirt off his jeans, Dean’s had enough life-on the-line scares tonight. He’s just going to head back to Baby forget this whole excursion ever happened and give Cas a piece of his fucking mind tomorrow when he sees him. 

He digs around the leaves to find his phone and pockets it, thankful the thing is completely intact. 

Taking a step, Dean finds the air leaving his lungs and his body meeting the hard ground with a solid thud. Before Dean can even register the sudden pain shooting up his spine, his hands move instinctively to protect his face. The pressing weight has him pinned so completely when it growls Dean feels the beasts growling rumbling in his own chest. 

Peeking around his hands, Dean sees two rows of very sharp canines aggressively snapping at him but not biting. Wiggling free seems impossible nevertheless Dean tries anyways. Kicking and squirming while keeping his face protected is becoming increasingly harder. 

“Don’t eat me,” Dean tries to plead with the thing. The snapping stops but the growls continue. Braving getting his eyes devoured, Dean moves his hands to get a good look at 150-pounds of…

Dark hazelnut bordering really close to soft black fur. 

The huge wolf moves back enough Dean can sit up on his elbows. Blinking hard, Dean is dumbstruck. The wolf’s eyes. They’re a color of blue Dean knows intimately and has ever only seen one person with.

“Cas?” Dean whispers with a sense of wonderment. The metric ton of fur seems to register Dean’s words which stops the growling and is replaced with an honest to goodness signature Cas head tilt. Shit, if Dean thought it was stupidly cute when Cas was human, the wolf tilting his head in confusion is a thousand times cuter. 

Dean can tell the beast is measuring him up trying to predict his next move. Raising a hand, the wolf flinches slightly, “Hey, hey,” Dean coos, “It’s okay,” he says slowing his hand closer and sinking it into the miles of fur in between the wolf’s ears; it’s softer than Dean imagined. He watches the majestic animal close those beautiful blues as Dean continues his petting. Guess he can add wolf whisperer to his resume now. 

Stroking the soft strands, Dean loses himself in the action for a minute just watching his glide through the fur over and over again; it’s rather relaxing. As he continues, Dean chuckles lightly when the wolf pushes his head up into Dean’s palm. Although by closer examination the thing is really too big to be a normal wolf. ~~Mega-Wolf?~~ ~~Wolfman?~~ ~~Werewolf?~~ Were? If he gets home in one piece, Dean’s going to do some serious monster terminology research. While he’s at it he should probably check Were (yeah, that’s the one he decided on) lore. 

A twig snaps in the distance and breaks their momentary truce spell. Blue eyes bore into his and Dean stills instantly. The creature slinks off him moving his head back and forth as if the Were is scanning the area listening for their interruption. 

The thought of high tailing it the fuck out of here because he has use of legs again crosses Dean’s mind for a blink of an eye before he completely dismisses the notion. As he stands Dean is once again shell shocked by how big the creature is; coming up to nearly his hip by Dean’s estimate. A small shoulder bag is tied to the Were’s back Dean notices and as he begins to question, _What the hell is the backpack for_ , the oversized wolf darts off behind the nearest cluster of trees. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Dean mutters to himself. Logic had long been tossed out the window the moment Dean saw the little dot blinking Cas’ location. 

Stepping around the trees, Dean discovers a _very human_ best friend already in a pair of bright orange boxers and jumping one leg at a time into a pair of gym shorts. He crosses his arms while striking his power pose ready to hear whatever explanation Cas is going to offer. 

Instead, Dean gets, “Dean,” with a nasty bite, and “What are you doing here!?” like he’s the one who needs to be answering questions. 

“Me?!” Dean seethes with offence. He throws his hands up in the air doing his best _you’ve got to be fucking kidding_ bitch face, “I came out here looking to rescue your ass from your relatives and possibly salvage our Halloween tradition and, no—no we’re not doing this—we’re not ignoring the fact you’re—you’re—a wolfman—were—werewolf?” 

“Dean, I don’t have time for this,” Cas writes him off, squatting down to rifle through the messenger bag to produce a pair of socks and tennis shoes.

If circumstances were different Dean would be embarrassed from the next combination of words flying out of his mouth in a disgruntled _I want to talk to your manager_ mom voice, but he doesn’t have time for shame, “CASTIEL MILTON!” Cas stops dead and turns at the full use of his name, something Dean’s ** _never_** had to use before, “Don’t you walk away from me.”

Cas furrows his brow deeper than his frown, “What do you want me to say, Dean?”

“How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long have you been keeping this secret from me?” Dean says, dramatically gesturing at all of Cas. 

Cas sighs and tilts his chin up staring at the sky like he’s arguing with the universe and the universe is winning. He sags his shoulders and gives Dean his attention, “I had my first shift when I was sixteen.”

“Five years?” Dean states more than questions, “You’ve been keeping this from me for five years, what the hell Cas?”

“What do you want me to say, Dean?” Cas says, borderline losing his cool, “I turned sixteen and had my shift on the next full moon. You think I knew what was happening to me? Huh? Tell me how I’m supposed to tell my best friend—oh by the way I turn into a wolf now and would probably eat your face because I don’t know how to control my urges yet—yeah that would have gone over real well Dean,” Cas finishes a little red in the face and balling up his fists. 

“I would have listened! I would have—”

“Don’t you say understood,” Cas cuts him off, “You would have freaked because I freaked out.” 

“I’m not freaking out, now am I?” Dean offers weakly, because yeah five years ago he probably would have freaked out as a teenager or called Cas crazy and swept the whole thing under the rug. Dean watches his best friend huff and starts walking off through the trees again. 

Rolling his eyes, Dean jogs to catch up to Cas’ retreating back. His best friend’s lithe runner’s body and ridiculously thick thigh muscle all make so much sense now that Dean knows Cas is some type of creature—seriously those thighs are supernatural. “Cas, wait.” 

Reaching out to grab Cas’ wrist, Dean pulls on it slightly to get Cas to come to a stop, “Cas come on, talk to me. What the hell are you doing out here? Where are you going so fucking determined?” 

Cas looks over his shoulder and Dean gives him his best-kicked puppy face with big ole’ green talk to me eyes. Cas sighs but relents giving into Dean’s pouty face that he’s never been able to resist, “You’re not going away, are you?” 

Dean shakes his head no, “And you’re not going to leave me alone until I tell you?” Cas asks. 

Dean nods, not trusting his words not to fuck up whatever Cas is internally trying to decide to disclose. 

Cas nods in return, resigning himself to spill his secret to his best friend, “You know how my parents were murdered? Well, they weren’t murdered in a robbery gone wrong, they were murdered by a rival pack and I only survived because they hid me in the basement and was lucky enough the firefighters found me after the pack set the house on fire.” 

Dean feels all the color drain from his face. What is he even supposed to say to that? Luckily Cas continues talking, “My father was the alpha of our pack and when I turned sixteen and shifted for the first time I stepped into my birthright as the new alpha of our clan,”

All the information Cas is spewing clicks together bits and pieces of the larger puzzle Dean was unaware needed to be solved. But now that the mystery presented itself Dean meant to see it through to the end. “Your relatives? They’re not really your relatives but your pack?” Dean asks, trying to Hansel and Gretel his way to the truth.

“Some are blood, some were loyal followers of my father thus are now loyal to me, and some have joined me over the years for various reasons,”

“Okay, so you’re like some badass.” Dean thinks but says aloud. Seeing this other side of his best friend is opening a whole new appreciation for the man in front of him. Dean knows Cas works his dick in the dirt between school, work, and apparently manages a whole pack on top of everything else on his plate. Yeah, Cas is most definitely a badass, a real-life fucking Superman all these years. Cool…cool…cool. 

The offhanded misspoken comment earns Dean a rare smirk and shoot him because his heart flutters at the sight. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” And for the first time that night Cas sounds like the teasing asshole of a best friend he’s known for fifteen years. 

“Real humble, Cas.” Dean chuckles, but he has more questions while Cas is finally being truthful with him, “So are you out here because of the full moon?” The question seems logical given the little information he’s gained watching a few ~~werewolves~~ Were movies over the years. 

The tips of Cas’ ears turn pink and he tries to shuffle away but Dean is having none of it tugging on the wrist he’s still locked onto. What kind of reaction is that? He tugs again to let Cas know he's waiting for an answer. 

Cas’ blush deepens to a scarlet fire burning across the bridge of his nose and both cheeks, “Yes and no. Yes, because as alpha my pack needs me to lead the runs. While we don’t need to shift at the full moon after you learn to control the shift, it’s good for us.”

“And no?” Dean automatically prompts.

“Because I’m the alpha there are certain traditions I must abide by,”

“Okay…what kind of traditions?”

Cas sighs knowing Dean isn’t going to let it go and why would he when whatever Cas is keeping from his has his face as red as a cherry-picked tomato, “Tradition dictates that after my twenty-first birthday I—” Cas swallows, looking at the ground like he’s discovering a new species of leaves and it’s the most interesting thing in the world, “I—I have to take a mate.” 

“What?” Dean chokes out, thanking his lucky stars he’s holding onto Cas’ wrist because the touch grounds him while his entire world is spinning. The only word floating through his panicked mind is playing on repeat— _mate…mate…mate_.

“And we both know I turned 21 in September…”

“So, they have you running around the woods?” Dean says, still trying to wrap his mind around the atomic bomb Cas dropped on him. 

“The ritual has been around for centuries dating back to the original pack members. On the full moon after my birthday all eligible and interested wolves are gathered. They enter the forest first and at the high moon I enter.”

“And then what?”

Cas shrugs, “Then fate decides.”

“Fate decides?” Dean parrots, remembering the suspicious feeling leading him deeper into the woods. Was it fate? 

“Yes Dean, the alpha enters the forest after all the eligible and interested have. And supposedly the inner wolf inside the alpha will guide him or her to their perfect mate. Which is what I was doing when you interrupted me.” Cas finishes like he’s the commentary on a documentary. He shakes his hand free from Dean’s grasp and begins trekking through the forest again. 

_Mate_. The word is still ringing in Dean’s mind. Cas is out here on their special day looking for a special someone. The irrational part of Dean’s brain takes the reins. He’s lost count of how many stupid ideas he’s had tonight but adds jogging in front of Cas to turn around and place hand in the middle of his best friend’s chest to stop him to the pile. And while Dean’s being an idiot, he adds the words, “Pick me,” as the little cherry on top of his Winchester Stupid pie. 

Cas faces scrunches up like he’s sucked on a sour lemon, and ouch Dean’s ego is bruised by the reaction. But before Dean can comment or backtrack Cas pins him with a God smiting stare, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Cas is right, Dean doesn’t know the first thing about Cas’s kind, but he does know everything there is to know about Cas. With renewed vigor, Dean knows exactly what he’s asking for—he’s asking for Cas to sleep in his memory foam instead of the spare bedroom, he’s asking for Cas to let Dean into his world, he’s asking for Cas to be his like Dean’s been wanting since they traded candies when they were six. He palms Cas’ chest more firmly not back down an inch underneath his friend’s chilling dagger eyes. 

“Pick me, Cas.” 

Cas’s eyes darken while he steps forward pushing himself harder into Dean’s hand. Rapid bursts of thumping beneath Dean’s fingertips distracts him from the disappearing inches between him and Cas. Even with a height difference in Dean’s favor, Cas seems to peer down on him radiating every bit of the alpha he says he is. 

A shallow breath against Dean’s ear has him losing strength in his knees, his hand seemingly Gorilla glued to the center of Cas’ very bare, very muscular chest. “You’re not a wolf Dean,” Cas whispers so close his stubble brushes Dean’s cheek; it feels even better than Dean’s fantasized over the years. 

The only intelligible thing Dean’s brain can muster is, “So?”

“When have you ever cared about the rules Cas?” Dean says around the dry lump in his throat, “Mr. wears a hot pink princess dress to the prom,” Cas might be an alpha or whatever, but Dean is Dean fucking charm your pants off Winchester. 

Finding his bearings, Dean slides his hand agonizingly slow from Cas’s chest down to his ribcage and trails his fingertips from there to Cas’ sharp hip bone. Dean squeezes not enough to bruise but enough to let Cas know he’s serious. Cas nuzzles his nose against Dean’s ear which is unfair, Cas is playing dirty; he’s playing some game of chicken with Dean but too bad so sad Dean came to this forest for his best friend and he wasn’t leaving here without him, so he’s all in; Dean’s in it to win now. 

The building heat between them is suffocated when Cas rests his forehead against Dean’s shoulder, wrapping his hands around Dean’s waist. Squeezing the hip bone in his hand, Dean stands still soaking in this moment into his memory; letting the pine and citrus smell wallow in his nostrils and the searing warmth from Cas’ body chase away the bite of the night air. Every small detail Dean wills his body to remember because they’ve teetered this line before—lingering stares, falling asleep on each other during movie nights—but never fully crossed it. 

“Why can’t it be me?” Dean says, nudging the growing weight perched on his shoulder. If he’s going to be rejected by the only person he's ever been in love with he’s going to need a better reason than being human.

“Dean tradition says—”

“All that are eligible, and interested enter the forest,” Dean says which prompts Cas to lift his head and eye Dean wearily, “Don’t know if you noticed but I am single and very, very interested and here I am in the fucking woods when we should be at Charlie’s bash rocking the costumes I put together.”

Cas bites his lip, and Dean wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into the slightly chapped flesh. Instead, Dean takes his thumb and drags it across his best friend’s bottom lip saving it from being chewed. The lust swims through Cas’ ocean eyes like impending clouds gliding across the sky to darken a crystal blue lake. 

Dean swipes his thumb along the lip line once more entranced by the feel, although chapped the skin is soft beneath his touch. The embers of their previous fire flicker a flame back to life. 

“You said fate decides, who’s to say this isn’t fate Cas?” Dean says, leaning in.

Fuck, his earlier observations were right; Cas’ lips are soft. Tilting his head for better alignment, Dean brings a hand up to cradle Cas’ face while pulling the man flush against his body. He sinks his teeth into that plush bottom lip and Cas lets out a strangled noise from the back of his throat.

Spurred on by the pure pornographic noises Cas is making, Dean dives in deeper battling Cas’ tongue for dominance. Dean’s so lost in the push and pull of their kiss he doesn’t realize Cas has backed him up to the nearest tree until the bark is biting deliciously into his back. 

When they come up for air, they’re both panting; chests heaving, lips kiss swollen, bodies pressed to close Dean can’t tell if it’s his heart beating like a jackhammer or Cas’s. Dean leans back in peppering kisses to his best friend’s nose, cheeks, lips. Jesus, Dean’s dreamed of this for years and reality has shattered his expectations in the best possible way. 

“Cas,” Dean whispers with a deepness to his voice he didn’t know he possessed in between pecks of lips, “Pick me. Pick me because fuck, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I can’t imagine my life without you.” More pecks, “Cas, you’re it for me man.” Dean draws him in for a breath-stealing kiss pouring his feelings into Cas’s awaiting mouth.

This time Cas is the one to pull away, his baby blues stealing away all of Dean’s remaining breath. “Yes,” the word drops from Cas’ mouth like a bullet straight through Dean’s beating heart; ascending his soul to another plane. “Yes, Dean. Be my mate, _please_.” 

“Caaaasssss,” Dean's broken sighs spill out when Cas’s talented mouth nibbles its way down Dean’s jaw and column of his throat. Shit, in all the time Dean has known his best friend he’s never seen Cas with a lover of any kind. Although knowing Cas is a Were now makes sense. Dean always just assumed Cas wasn’t interested in relationships or sex but the way he’s kneeing his way in between Dean’s legs, Dean’s made a grave mistake in his judgments. 

Between the tree eating his back and the pressure from Cas’s thigh pressed against Dean’s solid erection, it’s the perfect balance of pleasure and pain. 

Dean wraps his arms around Cas’s shoulders as the man paws at the button of his jeans; there’s a silent hallelujah when the button pops free and Cas is eagerly hooking his thumbs into the waistband of Dean’s boxers. An honest to God whimper escapes Dean’s lips as Cas takes a half-step so he can pull both Dean’s boxers and jeans down in one fluid motion. 

“Fuck,” is all Dean can manage as his cock springs free lightly smacking against his shirt. Unaware of when he closed his eyes, Dean peels them open to see Cas staring at his dick like it’s the 8th wonder of the world. “Pervert,” Dean teases and Cas looks up at him with a desperate hunger before sinking to his knees. 

Cas knee-walks in the foliage until his face is nibbling Dean’s right inner thigh; teeth nip their way up leaving soft bites in their wake until they are faced with Dean’s cock. Tongue replaces teeth as a wet stripe is licked from his balls to his slit, leaking pre-cum. Cas swirls his tongue around the head of Dean’s cock and fuck if it isn’t the best thing Dean’s ever felt and his knees are going rom-com movie weak. 

Strong hands come up and hold Dean in place as Cas envelopes him in the wet heat of his mouth. And _for all that is holy_ can Cas give a motherfucking blowie; tongue massaging the underside of his dick while enthusiastically bobbing up and down not even bothering to breathe. 

Feeling the familiar tingle in balls, Dean’s not going to last long if Cas keeps sucking him down like a gosh damn milkshake in the heart of summer. A string of curses breaks up Dean’s moans, he’s not ready to blow his load yet, not when he hasn’t even gotten his hands on that beautiful body he’s had wet dreams about. 

“Cas,” Dean whines, running his hand through Cas’ tousled dark locks. Tugging on the strands, Cas peeks up at him through his lashes and fuck this boy could make an angel fall. “Wait,” Dean pleads with weighted desire, “Fuck, Cas. I want to feel you too.” Cas slides down Dean’s dick one more time before pulling off with a wet pop.

Dean is on him the moment Cas pops off, tugging him up by his hair so Dean can taste himself on Cas’s tongue. Cas growls as Dean plunges his free hand into Cas’ gym shorts kneading the globes of his ass. Dean sends a silent thank you to whoever invented gym shorts because fuck they make it easy for Dean to tug them down. 

Breaking their heated slide of lips, Cas leans back to also pull down his orange boxers. And Dean must be the luckiest man in the world because Cas’ cock is gorgeous—girthy, long, and leaking. 

As Cas crowds back into Dean’s space, Dean knows he was kidding himself for thinking for a minute he was ever in control. Cas is a dominating force, every single fiber of his being radiating alpha while his dick slots in perfectly next to Dean’s. In between breaths they both have managed to wrap their hands around each other’s dicks. 

And Dean would be lying if said he didn’t fucking love being manhandled because hot damn Cas is freaky strong and there are not many guys who can lift his heavy ass off the ground but Cas could; Dean vibrates with the knowledge that later when they’re not jerking each other roughly in the middle of the fucking woods, Cas can pick him up by the thighs and throws him onto his memory foam. 

The thought has Dean arching his back off the tree and thrusting faster into the tunnel of Cas’s hand. Cas is panting a broken mantra of his name and the tingling feeling is back pulling his balls up against his body. 

With a couple more thrusts and tugs from Cas, Dean is coming hard; clutching every inch of Cas he can get with his free hand. Cas follows quickly behind him with a possessive growl and sinking his teeth into the soft spot between Dean’s shoulder and neck. 

Dean yelps from the bite but is too far gone on cloud nine from the amazing orgasm to feel any pain. Cas holds him up while they both try to inhale some air. 

“Holy shit,” Dean says, coming down from his high. He frowns seeing his poor Batman shirt completely soaked. “Awe man come on. I liked this shirt.” And really Dean doesn’t care about his ruined shirt, but he can’t help pouting when Cas is chuckling at him. 

Somehow in the battle of clothes are the enemy, Cas’ messenger bag was flung off to the side. Tucking themselves back in and straightening themselves the best they can, Cas scuttles over to his bag and hands Dean his t-shirt—his blue t-shirt with a giant Superman logo in the center Dean had bought him a couple Halloween’s ago. 

Laughing at the irony, Dean shucks his flannel and strips out of his cumfested Batman shirt and pulls on the fresh t-shirt then his flannel. Cas takes it and shoves it to the bottom of his bag, throwing Dean a lazy smile. 

“Ready to meet my pack?” Cas says, still rearranging his gym shorts. 

Rubbing at the bite on his neck, Dean’s not afraid to admit he’s a little nervous. But he gave his heart over to this ~~man~~ beast so, “Fuck yeah.”

Cas holds out his hand invitation, a blinding smile gracing his face. Dean latches on lacing their fingers together. 

“So,” Dean has to ask because now that the sexual tension is gone, he has a mile-long list of questions, “Do you think they’re going to try and eat me?”

“No Dean we don’t eat people,” Cas deadpans like Dean just asked what color the sky is. Dean fires questions at him as they trek through the forest hand in hand. With anyone else, Cas is a stoic, hard-to-read wall but with Dean, he’s regular chatty-Cathy answering his questions in kind. Squeezing Cas’s hand, Dean’s happy even after their—mating? (Dean still wrapping his mind around my new boyfriend is my mate thing)—Cas is still his best friend and more.

* * *

Snuggling up to his new personal body pillow, Dean smiles while he wraps an arm around Cas’ waist. 

The pack had taken the announcement of Dean as Cas’s mate rather well. No one questioned or challenged the alpha after he said, “Fate has spoken.” 

Apparently, it wasn’t the first time in Were history an alpha was fated to take a human as a mate. With the ritual and pleasantries with every member of the pack over, Dean was more than ready to go home. 

Dean kisses the knobs of Cas’ spine remembering how he had trekked back through the forest to retrieve his Baby, but Cas tagged along leading the way thankfully.

Cas hums contentedly before rolling over and nudging Dean over so he can be the little spoon. He settles back into the warmth radiating from Cas’ body until his sweet tooth kicks in. Propping himself up on his elbows, Dean reaches into his poor neglected Halloween candy and digs around for a bite-sized Kit-Kat. 

A chuckle comes from behind Dean’s back as he pops the crunchy chocolate wafer in his mouth, “Mhm, best Halloween ever,” Dean chews, putting the wrapper on the bedside table to throw away later. 

The asshole he decided to spend the rest of his life with tickles his stomach. Dean about chokes on the candy in his mouth trying to stop himself from chuckling. 

“Are you still going to wear your pretty costume for me?” Cas says in a husky voice that should be illegal. 

“If you don’t try and kill me first,” Dean giggles, trying to distance himself from Cas’ tickling, “Okay, okay,” Dean says, swatting at Cas’ hand to get him to stop. 

Leaning down, Dean kisses the pout from Cas’s face before snuggling back into his little spoon position. 

Yeah, Dean loves two things—his mate and candy.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a comment below if you'd be interested in a possible sequel. I also want to take the time to thank the mods who run the cocklesdestielfanfic blog and challenges Without you, I would not be the writer I am today. So thank you. Also, kudos are most welcome. Hope you enjoyed the fall down my rabbit hole. -Alice


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